


Tailspin/Collision

by dvs



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-04
Updated: 2010-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvs/pseuds/dvs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John tries not to fall into a tailspin.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Tailspin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries not to fall into a tailspin.

There are two men kissing right by the fire.

The reactions are interesting all around. Ronon sees Teyla's face and nudges her with, "What? Athosian men don't kiss?"

Teyla looks a little apologetic, explaining that the Athosians are very much a man/woman type of people, though she has nothing against this kind of coupling.

While trying not to look too uncomfortable, John sees Rodney looking right at him. He looks lost in thought, his face looking flushed by the heat of the big fire.

Rodney doesn't seem to notice that John is watching him back and they end up locked in a long gaze.

Rodney snaps out of it suddenly, frowning, his eyes darting to see if anyone's noticed his absence of mind.

When he's composed himself, that's when he notices that John's irritated.

"What?" he asks John.

John glances at the newly _joined_ couple, still kissing by the fire, and looks away with a weary sigh.

Rodney looks at the couple and then at John, adding two and two to make five.

John makes an excuse and leaves the fireside, Rodney watching him leave, a strange look on his face, like someone just told him the city of Atlantis is fake.

## 

*

Things are normal, or as normal as John can have them be.

Every now and then, Rodney questions him with a look, pushing him for an answer, and all John can do is look back defiantly, telling him with a glance that, no, it's not okay. It's a big deal.

There's that look of disappointment again. So sad that maybe it'll dilute the blue of Rodney's eyes to a lifeless gray.

## 

*

The team carry on as they ought to, but Rodney's retorts are just that tiny bit sharper and John is just that more impatient with the scientist. They both have to rein themselves in when their uncharacteristic animosity produces looks of worry between Ronon and Teyla.

It gets to a point where John doesn't even want to look at Rodney.

## 

*

"Something's happened between you and McKay," Ronon says after their run.

John is breathing hard, concentrating hard on bringing the bottle of water to his mouth. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Ronon says, watching him closely.

John nods. "What makes you say that?"

"You're both acting like you hate each other."

John shrugs. "We're always sniping at each other. It's our thing."

Ronon snorts and shakes his head before smiling at John, looking over his shoulder as he takes off for another run, with a shout of, "No it's not."

John watches Ronon run back up the catwalk as he stands there alone, aching and tired.

## 

*

It's hard to avoid Rodney. They're both on the same team. They both report to Elizabeth. They're both needed for the crisis of the week.

Rodney is Rodney. He's loud. He's arrogant. His brain and mouth run faster than two-hundred and fifty miles per hour.

Listening to him and watching his hands speak a language of their own is dizzying. John feels like he's going into a spin. Only, there's no bailing out. Just spinning and inevitably heading towards crashing.

He's aware of himself snapping at Rodney, telling him to get to the point. Rodney snaps right back, cold blue eyes giving a heated look. They hold each other's gaze for a brief moment, which feels painfully long before everything starts to move again.

John feels himself fall a little closer to crashing and burning.

## 

*

John falls hard and it's not for the first time.

As he gathers himself up from the floor, Teyla is watching him curiously. John takes a breath, sniffs, rolls his shoulders back and gets back into position.

Teyla continues to watch him, head tilted to the side, her eyes warm and concern written all over her face. John remembers kissing her, trying to find something in that moment. All he finds is a memory of hunger. But that could be something old. He can't even tell anymore.

"Come on, let's go," John says, strengthening his stance. "I'm good."

"You seem distracted," Teyla says. Not tired, not sick or anything else. Distracted, she says.

John shakes his head. "Yeah. Didn't sleep well."

"We can do this another time," Teyla says with an understanding smile.

John gives her a smile, feeling it stretch across his face, all charm and grace. "Oh, I think I can handle it."

Teyla smiles, amused, and gives him a nod.

John falls hard and it's not for the last time.

## 

*

They were going to have to talk about it eventually.

John knows Rodney and he knows that Rodney's been itching from the first moment to ask questions. There's only so much running John can do.

Rodney's waiting outside his quarters, impatient and irritated.

John opens his mouth, but Rodney cuts him off. "I'm trying to figure out what's going on here, but so far, I've got nothing."

John nods mutely.

"See, I keep thinking about what it might be and all I can come up with is the look on your face on that planet, when you got up and left. It makes sense, but at the same time, I guess I'm having trouble believing it."

"Believing what?" John asks, ordering his voice not to betray him.

"This whole 'don't ask, don't tell' thing. I get that it's there, I just never figured-"

"That I'd have a problem seeing two guys kissing?" John asks.

"That you'd have a problem with people being who they are," Rodney says quietly, searching John's eyes. "It's not very...you."

"I don't have a problem," John says. "I have no problem with people doing what they want in private."

Rodney seems to flinch, or maybe he doesn't. But he's watching John for a long time, like he's turned to stone.

"Huh," he finally says, his face forever incapable of hiding a single thought. The last time someone looked this disappointed in John, it was a different galaxy.

"Look-" John starts, a spike of panic in his chest at the thought that he's broken something that can never be repaired.

"It's okay," Rodney says, so calm, it can't really be him, can it? "You don't owe me an explanation."

They stare at each other for a while and the space between them is cold like ice.

"Right," Rodney says, giving a little nod. "I'm going to go now."

He instantly moves to leave, brushing past John. It's a reflex that surprises John, his hand shooting out to stop Rodney, closing around his arm.

Rodney stops and frowns at John. John instantly lets go.

What's he supposed to say? I've seen the way you look at me? Don't hate me? I'm sorry? There's nothing he can say to make Rodney stop looking at him like he's even worse than the Wraith.

"It doesn't mean anything, Rodney," John says, even though it's too little, too late.

Rodney's still frowning, looking at the ground and then back at John. "I think it does, Colonel."

Then he's gone and John is left alone, tired and aching.

## 

*

John falls hard.

But he gets back up fast. Every time he falls, he gets up a little faster than before. The sweat on the mat hasn't even dried and he's up, bouncing on his feet and watching Ronon. The other man is smug and confident and it makes John roll his eyes.

John moves to strike Ronon, but Ronon grabs his wrist, twists him around and John ends up with Ronon pressed up behind him, his own arm wrapped around his throat, his wrist in Ronon's grasp.

John sighs. Fuck this.

"What did you do to piss McKay off?" Ronon asks, pushing John away.

John walks away and picks up his towel, wiping the sweat away and taking time before he faces Ronon. "What are you talking about?"

"He's quiet. Teyla says something's wrong," Ronon says.

"Why don't you ask him?" John asks, a littler sharper than he intends.

Ronon arches an eyebrow. "Okay."

John watches Ronon and wonders if he would ask and if Rodney would tell. There's nothing to stop them going down the road forbidden to others.

 

## 

*

Rodney _is_ quiet, but only when he catches sight of John.

John can see an immediate change in him. Rodney doesn't even try to hide the fact that it's John who is making him stop mid-sentence, making him look momentarily lost and wounded. It's all right there.

It makes John want to say he's sorry, every time he sees Rodney. Or to run.

It's like trying to figure out the ground from the sky. He has no idea what the right way up is anymore.

## 

*

It all falls apart when they're both shoved into a small stone cell because they have the gene that makes Ancient lamps glow.

The Amaraans want Rodney to make their machine work, to find out what it does and if it's a weapon. Rodney doesn't know what it does and he tells them over and over.

"You're lying," one of the guards says.

"He's not lying," John says. He knows Rodney and he knows that Rodney isn't lying.

The guard seems to think it over and looks at John for a long time. Then he looks at Rodney's face, too honest for his own good.

"Maybe this will help you to find out what it does," the guard says, before he shoots John in the stomach.

John tries not to fall, but it's like the ground has hands that are tugging at the bullet in his gut, pulling him down against his will.

Somewhere above the sound of pain, Rodney is yelling at the guard, telling him he doesn't know anything.

Time slowing down, dripping like honey, John can't tell when Rodney arrives at his side, a big hand squeezing his shoulder.

Rodney is mumbling and muttering, pulling at John's jacket, pushing aside his hands. "Oh...god, I don't know what to...I don't even have anything," Rodney is whispering breathlessly. "Colonel? Colonel," he says, giving John's arm a shake.

"I don't think they believe us," John manages, swallowing down pain and nausea.

John focuses on looking at Rodney when the other man doesn't say anything. Rodney looks terrible, taking off his jacket and bundling it up. In the next moment, John feels something press hard against his stomach, where he imagines there's a hole big enough for a bowling ball to fit into. He grunts against the pain of Rodney trying to stem the bleeding, his fists clenching at his sides.

Rodney looks at John, so wounded. It doesn't seem fair that someone should wear their feelings on their face like lines on a page. It's not fair on John.

"I wasn't lying," Rodney says, his voice breaking. "I really have no idea what that machine does. I...I don't know what to-"

John's hand shakily goes to Rodney's, which is holding the jacket to John's stomach. John covers Rodney's hand, and it's weird because there they are, both their hands covered in the same blood.

John just watches the other man shake his head as he makes a feeble attempt to squeeze Rodney's hand. But Rodney is muttering to himself, trying to figure stuff out, talking about blood and crazy alien people. John just watches. A bullet in the gut to let him touch the other man and watch him unashamedly seems a fair exchange somehow.

Rodney frowns and looks up slowly and it's too late for John to look away.

There must be something he sees on John's face, something in his eyes, because the blue eyes go from observant to realization, the mouth hanging open a little. He's looking at John with a face that says he knows. He's just seen it all over John's face.

John feels Rodney's hand slip from his and Rodney is disappearing slowly from his field of vision, his expression frozen.

John can hear banging on the door, Rodney calling for the guards.

John closes his eyes, his body in a spin, heavy, yet floating. He thinks about letting go of the controls, closing his eyes and just falling into the spin, heading to the ground, and disappearing into a ball of fire. It's so easy to do that.

But someone keeps waking him, keeps making him mumble nonsense he can't remember a second after he's said it. Someone's holding on and stopping him from falling, even though, sometimes, you want to fall.

## 

*

He wakes up and assumes the reason he doesn't feel much of anything is because of whatever's been added to his drip. He feels heavy and even though he has words, he doesn't seem to have the power needed to force them out of his mouth, which is a shame because Rodney's there, his face coming into view above John.

"Hey," Rodney says, and John notices the other man looks tired and worn out.

John gives a nod, which feels more tiring than it should.

"Carson says you'll be fine. No missions for a while, but you'll be okay," Rodney says, subdued, eyes never looking at John for too long. “Ronon and Teyla just left a minute ago. We owe them a big thanks, in case you're wondering.”

John licks his bottom lip, but still, the fuzz of anesthetic is heavy across his whole body and he can't find the adequate breath for words.

Rodney is looking at the beeping monitor, eyes narrowing, mouth muttering, but silent. He finally fixes his frown on John. He opens his mouth and John grimaces at a twinge of pain, shutting his eyes tight.

A large, warm hand covers his, gently squeezing and John doesn't open his eyes, because Rodney could still be looking at him with disappointment, which hurts a million times more than a bullet in the gut.

Right now, he just wants Rodney to keep holding on.

## 

*

Things are weird. Rodney drops by the infirmary. He talks about everything, but the one thing they should be talking about.

He drops by on his own, with Ronon and Teyla, with Elizabeth. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the dead of night when he's taking a break from working. But he never asks John anything. So John starts to wonder if it's all in his head. Maybe Rodney is none the wiser.

John leaves the infirmary and still, Rodney is just being Rodney. Yet, they're both like two different people who have never met.

John figures it's time to get reacquainted.

## 

*

Rodney is on one of the piers and John is surprised to find him there. Rodney doesn't take the time to shoot the breeze or smell the roses.

John sits down next to him on the bench and they're both watching the sun sinking into the sea for the night.

Rodney looks across at John with a frown. "Should you be out here?"

John nods. "Fresh air, which is why I'm surprised you're here."

Rodney snorts and goes back to looking at the sunset.

"I was looking for you," John says.

"I know," Rodney replies. "You know what's really weird? I was walking past a window in the mess and I saw the sun was about to set and it occurred to me that I've never seen a sunset on Earth. And now I really want to. Even though, this is better. I mean, new galaxy, that's a big deal. It's _better_. Isn't it? Know what's even weirder?"

John shakes his head. "What?"

"The next time we're back on Earth, I'll probably think it's a waste of time and not bother because there's always something better to do," Rodney says, looking a little wistful.

"Rodney," John says, because talking about fucking sunsets is killing him.

Rodney turns to look at John, his mouth a little twisted and his eyes sharp and glittering. "Is this going to be the part where you explain that acting like an idiot was your way of saving us both the heartache? Because I'd rather you didn't.” Rodney takes a deep breath. “What did you think I was going to ask you for? Seriously, why couldn't you just _tell_ me?"

John swallows because as usual, hindsight makes everything look so pointless and such a waste of time. He wants to tell Rodney that he couldn't let Rodney know, not the way he's seen Rodney look at him, his need and want so open and naked. Who the hell goes willingly into a tailspin?

"We can't all have what we want," John says, his eyes on the disappearing sun, making him think of where home is: the lost city of Atlantis.

"So you decided it would be easier if I just thought you were a jerk," Rodney says, giving him that look that any person in Atlantis responsible for an idiotic mistake has gotten.

John sighs, closing his eyes and tilting his face towards the fading heat of the universe, his hands gripping the edge of the bench.

"What _do_ you want?" Rodney asks, his voice soft and close, like he's watching John.

John turns towards it, opens his eyes and meets Rodney's expectant gaze.

What does he want? He wants to be able to lean across and kiss Rodney, without a care in the world. In the galaxy. He wants to, push his lips against Rodney's, see if they're as soft as they look, and he wants to taste the inside of his mouth, touching him all the time, letting his hands press against Rodney's body.

Most of all, he wants it to be okay to want this.

"What?" Rodney asks, softer, a little urgent.

John looks away at the sky, which is gray, the very last curve of the sun sinking, leaving everything as cold as the metal tags against his chest.

"I want...things to be okay," John says, heart sinking into the sea with the sun, everything going dark so quickly.

Rodney sighs and they both sit there, watching the sky darken, the stars coming into view, too far away for their warmth to count.

"You ever seen a sunset on Earth?" Rodney asks after a while.

"Sure," John says.

"What's it like?"

John shrugs. "They're pretty much the same wherever you see them."

Rodney looks at John, a little disappointed perhaps. "Huh."

"It's not the sunset that matters," John says, picking out stars in the sky.

"It's not?"

John can see Rodney's watching him, but he continues to look at the stars, counting every single one, shining like bullet holes in the fabric of space. "No. It's everything else."

Rodney nods. "That's very...I have no idea what you're talking about."

John smiles and chances a look at Rodney, laying himself bare, not letting his face harden into a mask that hides everything. "Are we cool?"

Rodney rolls his eyes. "No, Colonel. You're cool. I'm...I'm fine," he says, going for laid back, but faltering on the last word.

John nods. It's enough. It has to be.

"So, Ronon's been telling creepy stories again," Rodney says after a long time.

"Yeah?" John says, closing his eyes, letting the breeze stroke his face as he tilts his head up.

"Apparently, he knows how to kill a Wraith and use its hands for gloves," Rodney says, sounding disgusted.

John smiles. "I swear he makes half of this stuff up."

"Yes, well, I won't be the one to test that theory, thank you," Rodney says, veering off into discussing the people he'd like to see scooped out by Ronon.

John sits there and listens. He looks across at Rodney who is gesturing and talking and breaking the speed of light. Rodney, who is still there, who didn't run away. Rodney, who he still wants to kiss, maybe in front of a huge fire and everyone watching.

One day, John thinks, I'll make it okay to want this.

**\- the end -**


	2. Collision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney feels as though he is headed for a collision.

As much as Rodney would hate to admit it, he's distracted, and it's not by some grand question or imperfect equation. Just a sentence, a few brief words that resonate at the center of his mind whenever he sees Sheppard.

_I want things to be okay._

At first he shrugs it off. At first it makes sense. Sheppard wants things to be the way they've always been.

Only, by the time he goes to bed that night, Rodney has questioned every single word in that sentence and staring into the dark, he wonders about what _things_ Sheppard wants to be okay.

Rodney figures this is what makes him a bad liar. He always says what he feels. Sheppard? He could be saying anything.

## 

*

Though Rodney can't be certain about _things_ being okay, nothing seems exceptionally bad between him and Sheppard. They've fallen back into their gentle bickering and Sheppard doesn't stand miles away as if one of them might ignite from being too close.

Yes, to use a Sheppard word, things are _cool_.

While walking towards the gate one day, an alien sun sinking in the background, Rodney thinks back to a sunset he shared with Sheppard. The one that felt like it took an entire ocean to douse out the bonfire that started all the awkwardness.

He imagines whatever it is that Sheppard's afraid of is at the bottom of the ocean now, hiding under Atlantis. Embers that aren't allowed to breathe under the weight of a city.

He can't even hate Sheppard, though somehow that would be better than things being cool.

## 

*

“Rodney. Rodney. Rodney? Rodney, are you listening?”

Rodney rolls his eyes and looks up at Radek. “Of course I'm listening.”

“What did I say?” Radek asks, arms folded across his chest.

Rodney thinks about it. He's pretty sure the words 'energy' and 'surge' featured heavily, but that could be one of a thousand conversations they've had this week. “You said, 'Rodney, are you listening?'”

Radek narrows his eyes at Rodney.

“Look, get over it and just tell me what you want to tell me. Unless it's not work related, in which case, go away.”

Radek shakes his head. “You have been distracted lately. It is not good. You are making mistakes.”

Rodney stops tapping at his keyboard. Mistakes. Mistakes are bad. “Really?”

“Yes. Your shirt is inside out,” Radek points at Rodney's chest.

Rodney scowls down at his shirt and considers telling Radek that it's all a part of energy conservation, but it's late, he's tired and so utterly distracted that it's depressing. He frowns up at Radek. “When did you notice?”

Radek shrugs. “This morning.”

“Why didn't you say something?” Rodney snaps.

Radek looks around shiftily. “I was looking for the right moment?”

Rodney closes his eyes and shakes his head. Idiots. He's surrounded by idiots.

## 

*

When Sheppard says he wants things to be okay, he possibly means that they should pretend he was never lying in that cell, a bloody hole in his gut and Rodney's hands covered in blood. Maybe he'd like to forget that he looked at Rodney in a way so wanton and telling, it left an imprint on the air around them.

Maybe he'd like Rodney to forget that the only time Sheppard offered up the naked truth was when he thought he was going to die.

On one hand, Rodney desperately craves more of this truth, that flicker in Sheppard's warm eyes.

On the other hand, he'd prefer Sheppard to just stay alive.

This is what compromise must feel like.

## 

*

Rodney falls hard and it's not for the first time.

He's in pain and his head feels like it might explode if all his muscles don't rip apart first. He feels himself being dragged and propped against something hard and there's a hand slapping at his face.

“Rodney, I need you to stay with me here,” Sheppard says, his voice a little ragged.

Rodney opens his eyes and shakes his head. Everything is so wrong. All the wrong colors, all the wrong sounds and his heart racing in his chest.

Sheppard is the worst. His eyes are completely different, the colors inverted somehow, glowing at the edges and his face is flushed with something bright that's seeping into the air around him.

Rodney curses and closes his eyes because seeing like this hurts more than all the pain in his body. It's as if the whole universe has had a cigarette stubbed out on it, leaving a hole with a burnt edge. It's somehow worse than the Wraith and every nightmare put together.

“Rodney? Listen to me,” Sheppard's voice echoes out there somewhere. “Rodney! Listen!”

Rodney tries to ignore the shudders, blinking until the blurs become edges and Sheppard is something like he used to be.

“We can't stay here, Rodney, I need you to help me,” Sheppard is saying slowly. “You understand?”

Rodney frowns. No, he doesn't understand at all. He doesn't understand any of it. It's all wrong. It's all inside out.

Sheppard lays a hand on Rodney's cheek and says evenly, “Rodney, I need your help. Tell me I can count on you.”

There's a big hole in the universe somewhere, a big burnt out hole and Rodney McKay put it there. It's so ridiculous it's funny and he wants to laugh until he's sick.

Moments later, he realizes that Sheppard's holding him tight and something is cracking in Rodney's chest, drowning out the noise of everything else.

## 

*

Rodney wakes and the lights in the infirmary take forever to stop burning his eyes. His head is throbbing, but without pain and his muscles feel sore, but in an indistinct and fuzzy way. The familiar smell of the infirmary makes it all bearable. Home makes everything bearable.

A sleepy sound makes Rodney turn his head to the side and he sees Sheppard in a chair, sleeping awkwardly with arms folded across chest and body at a tilt, cheek almost touching shoulder.

He has a purplish bruise near his mouth, a halo around a straight cut in the bottom lip. Rodney has no memory of how Sheppard got that bruise or how they've ended up in the infirmary. All he remembers is a simple celebration cut short by raiders and escaping a fate as someone's personal physicist, which might have been worse than it promised, since the raider seemed to misinterpret what a physicist actually did.

What he does seem to remember is clinging hard, fingers rigid and a voice in his ear; _it's okay, it's okay._

He remembers thinking, it's not okay. He remembers thinking that Sheppard is nothing but a black shadow with colorful edges and really, Rodney should be afraid and running away.

But there's something warm at the center of that shadow, emanating in slow and silent waves. Something that'll have you believe the lie that everything's okay, even when it's not.

“What?” Sheppard asks, making Rodney realize that the other man is awake and staring right back.

“Just thinking,” Rodney says.

Sheppard smirks. “Figures.”

Rodney sighs and looks up at the ceiling, listening to Sheppard work up the courage to ask something that's not straight out of the manual for macho bullshit.

After a long pause, he finally asks, “You okay?”

Rodney rolls his eyes and barely resists the urge to tell Sheppard to _shut up, please_.

## 

*

Rodney is finding ways to dilute his distraction. The fact that Sheppard is willing to bury whatever it is he feels seems to help. If he can lounge twice as much as usual, then Rodney can point out the immense stupidity of the people that surround him with more frequency. If Sheppard has a charming smirk and know it all smile for every occasion then Rodney has the latest in astute, yet witty retorts known to Atlantean-kind.

Things are _okay_ with a capital, yet amazingly fake and hard-hearted O.

## 

*

Rodney falls hard, Sheppard on top of him and a sharp rock underneath his back. Rodney opens his mouth to protest as life is complicated enough without damaging important parts of his body. However, Sheppard clamps a hand over Rodney's mouth with a loud, “Shhh!”

They listen for a long time, every sound of the forest becoming important. For now it seems as though they've lost their pursuers, which is good because death is a bad thing, but bad because it probably means Ronon and Teyla are being chased.

Of course, considering what Teyla can do with sticks and the size of Ronon's gun, Rodney figures he ought to be feeling sorry for the natives of the week that took a dislike to the Atlanteans.

They lie there long enough for Rodney to stop thinking about their endangered lives and start noticing how firm and warm Sheppard's hand is on his face, his fingers on Rodney's cheek. Of course, then he has to think of Sheppard lying there on top of him, mouth slightly open and eyes wide as he listens to the forest.

The funny thing is, before Sheppard decided to let his secret bleed out in that cell, Rodney had never looked this long and hard. He had looked, of course he had looked. Who wouldn't? But not like this. Not with unfulfillable intention. Before, Sheppard's mouth was enticing. Now it's perfect and Rodney imagines that's it's three kisses to the center of wherever.

Rodney grabs Sheppard's hand and pulls it away from his mouth with irritation. “Mind if I don't suffocate?”

Sheppard rolls his eyes and shakes his head, beginning to ease off of Rodney. He puts his hand somewhere on the ground and grunts in surprise, hand slipping and making him land hard on Rodney.

“Okay, ow,” Rodney complains.

“Crap,” Sheppard is muttering, pushing himself up again while Rodney is simultaneously trying sit.

Somewhere in their efforts to be upright again, they end up with their mouths either side of a very small space. Sheppard looks...like he's lying. His eyes shift away, his mouth clamps shut, jaw clenching. It's like being shoved away to the ground and makes Rodney want to shove back.

But, he remembers telling Sheppard, _“What did you think I was going to ask you for? Seriously, why couldn't you just tell me?" _

Hating Sheppard is harder than...something he doesn't want to think about.

“Okay,” Rodney says. “Either get off or shift to the left because I totally can't feel my leg anymore.”

Sheppard looks at Rodney, laughing a little. Then nodding, smile on his face, he moves aside, leaving Rodney in the path of a cool breeze.

Rodney should resent Sheppard for teaching him to become a better liar, but it'll probably come in handy one day.

## 

*

When things begin to resemble some kind of normality, everything has to turn inside out again. For weeks Rodney's been able to ignore that sensation that makes him feel like the bottom of his stomach is falling out whenever he looks at Sheppard too long. For weeks, he's been berating himself for trying to hate Sheppard.

You don't always get what you want. Deal with it, he tells himself. Sheppard's doing it.

At least, he's dealing with it well enough when he's sober.

They make a trade with a village and drink to it, only Rodney declines the drink on account of a suspiciously acidic aroma. Sheppard, Ronon and Teyla drink what amounts to about three shot glasses each, after which they decide that caution is a good idea.

An hour later, Rodney regrets rolling his eyes at Sheppard when he used the word 'caution' because as ever, fate was tempted and gave in.

Sheppard makes it to their hut under his own steam, which is amazing because a minute later he's lying sprawled on the low bed, completely wasted and mumbling nonsense that Rodney can't hear.

Rodney takes a brief moment to ponder over the scenario of the natives turning nasty and three quarters of his team in a drunken stupor. He decides to sleep with the gun close at hand, dumping his jacket on top of Sheppard's, P90 underneath the pile.

For a moment he thinks about leaving his shoes on, in case there's a need to make a quick get away, but hearing a sleepy mumble from Sheppard makes him wonder if the natives are even sober enough to turn nasty. A minute later, his shoes are next to Sheppard's, close to their jackets and Rodney is tiredly crawling into the bed, pulling up a thin, but warm wool blanket over himself and Sheppard.

He lies back with a sigh, things bouncing around in his head, noisy and distracting. He's not sure if he's slept at all when he wakes up because it feels as though he was only drifting to begin with.

Sheppard's groaning, hand on face.

“You all right?” Rodney asks, propping himself up on an elbow.

Sheppard's hand comes up, pointing at his head as he scowls. “Like...uh...my teeth...when I had my teeth out,” he almost slurs, looking annoyed by the inability to concentrate.

Rodney nods. “Well, at least you're not singing.”

Sheppard frowns sleepily. “Singing?”

“Yep. Had no idea Teyla knew such bawdy songs. She's got a great voice though.”

Sheppard laughs, eyes closed and teeth showing. Rodney can't remember Sheppard ever having smiled like that. Three kisses to the center, he thinks.

“Ronon?” Sheppard asks.

“He's not drunk as you two. Just enough to be depressed,” Rodney answers.

Sheppard laughs quietly, looking disheveled, face flushed with heat.

Rodney tries to ignore the fact that Sheppard seems to be staring at him, eyes blinking slowly, glowing from the light of a dim lamp, flame flickering at the center of his large pupils. He seems to be scanning Rodney's face, charting a new territory perhaps.

Rodney looks away, wishing Sheppard could be this truthful without alcohol or fatal wounds. Maybe it is too much to ask, but Rodney's no hero. Just human.

He lies back down, closing his eyes, listening to John breathing close by, wishing he'd fall asleep, sober up and go back to living his lies. Only, when he turns his head to the side and opens his eyes, Sheppard is right there, asking with one single look.

Rodney hates himself as his hand just floats up, fingers skimming Sheppard's jaw, over rough stubble and warm skin. They skim all the way down the side of his neck, feeling a small change in skin texture, where a bug tried to feed. His thumb pushes up Sheppard's chin until it reaches his bottom lip, pulling it forward, the wetness catching the light of the lamp.

He can almost feel Sheppard's heart, thumping hard under his skin as he takes Rodney's hand, pulling it away, but holding on, before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Rodney's.

It's not a kiss, not really. It's Sheppard sighing into Rodney's mouth, swallowing hard so Rodney can feel it. Rodney presses against Sheppard, chest to chest and kisses Sheppard hard and hungry. Sheppard's hands move to his back, holding onto his shoulders as Rodney covers Sheppard's body, the blanket bunching up between them. He bites at Sheppard's bottom lip, tastes the inside of his mouth and lets his hand trail down Sheppard's body, heat radiating through the clothes.

There's a broken sound, like need, but Rodney can't tell if its from him or from Sheppard because all he wants to do is bury himself under Sheppard's skin, their bodies nowhere close enough, even with Sheppard pushing up into the kisses, like a man who's stumbled out of a desert and can't get his fill of water, it's nowhere close enough.

And that thought is like a tide breaking on the shore. This is all...it's all wrong.

Rodney pulls back slowly and stares at Sheppard, the other man looking confused. Rodney shakes his head. “Not like this.”

“What?” Sheppard asks, still not sounding anywhere near sober. “Rodney...it's okay.”

Rodney moves off of Sheppard. “Forgive me, Colonel, but the last I checked, people that are drunk out of their minds rarely know what they're doing. How about you sleep it off?”

Rodney doesn't look at Sheppard as he gets out of bed and puts his shoes on. He doesn't want to see anything. He doesn't want to know anything. Screw this.

He sulks by a fire, where Ronon joins him in the middle of the night, the booze having worn off.

In the morning, Teyla's out first, looking a little delicate, tensing at every loud sound. Ronon and Rodney try to tease her about the singing, but she doesn't have a clue what they're talking about. Sheppard stumbles out soon, wearing his sunglasses and looking pale, asking how the hell someone can get this wasted from three drinks.

Rodney feels like being very loud and annoying, just to add to Sheppard's misery. It seems unfair that only he gets to remember the night before.

Of course, it's ideal for Sheppard, isn't it? Things can continue being okay.

## 

*

“Too bad Teyla can't remember anything. We could have gotten a lot of mileage out of her singing,” Rodney laments as they finally head back to Atlantis.

“She's lying,” Sheppard says flatly.

Rodney looks at Ronon and Teyla who are walking on ahead, out of earshot. “Really?”

“If she pretends she can't remember, you can't tease her about it,” Sheppard says.

Rodney frowns at Sheppard. “She told you that?”

“No,” Sheppard says quietly. “I'm pretty sure a side effect of that gut rot isn't amnesia.”

It takes Rodney a second before he realizes what Sheppard's talking about. A whole damn second, which seems way too long for any realization in this galaxy.

“Oh,” Rodney says. “Right.”

“Yeah,” Sheppard says.

Rodney waits for more. Maybe a real talk, one where Sheppard uses words instead of blank spaces. He waits for a very long time. “Well? And?”

Sheppard shrugs. “And what?”

Rodney stops, grabbing Sheppard by his arm and pulling him around. “What happened last night? I thought we were both agreeing on you repressing and denying.”

Sheppard jerks his arm out of Rodney's grasp. “Nothing happened last night. Remember?”

Rodney frowns, blinking at the disbelief he's feeling. “You are kidding me! You're pissed off because I knocked you back when you were drunk?”

Sheppard looks a little appalled. “No!”

“Well, what then?”

Sheppard starts down the path again. “Forget it.”

“No, let's not forget it. Let's not forget it all,” Rodney says, falling into step with Sheppard.

“I don't want to talk about this, Rodney,” Sheppard says, his tone indicating that the conversation is over.

Rodney snorts. “How unlike you.”

Sheppard looks like he's going to ditch Rodney and walk on ahead, so Rodney sticks an arm out.

“No, please, allow me,” he says and then walks away, joining Ronon and Teyla, leaving Sheppard alone, where he can keep all his precious thoughts to himself.

## 

*

On the night of the Athosians' new year celebrations, as everyone sits around a huge bonfire, eating, drinking and laughing, Rodney catches Sheppard staring at the fire, lost in thought.

Sheppard turns to look at Rodney and it's as if he's expecting something in return. Sheppard raises his glass, making a face and Rodney resists throwing his own at Sheppard's head. Nevertheless, he raises his glass, adding this to his list of most memorable bad new year's celebrations. Probably the worst. At least the others had fireworks.

Knowing his luck, the Pegasus Galaxy's version of fireworks will come later.

## 

*

Fireworks come in the form of a hive ship blowing up over Atlantis, debris bouncing off the city's shield and producing the most fantastic display ever. It shouldn't be so pretty, but it is.

Or maybe Rodney's just exhausted and the blow to his head is messing with his mind. Next to him, Sheppard is also staring at the sky, bruised and tired. They spend so much time bruised and tired. Doesn't seem fair. Even the sky is looking like one huge bruise.

Rodney shakes his head and turns to go. “I need some sleep.”

He makes his way to his quarters, telling Radek he doesn't want to be disturbed unless there's another Wraith ship or Atlantis is sinking. He's in the process of kicking off his shoes when there's a knock at the door. Rodney goes to it, promising death to whoever it is not heeding his instructions.

The door slides backs and Sheppard walks in, hands going straight to Rodney's face, mouth taking his lips. Rodney manages to smack the crystal by the door, shutting it as he and Sheppard do an awkward waltz across the floor, shoving away each other's jackets, breaking from their kisses for the smallest of seconds.

They land on the bed and Sheppard is holding Rodney down by his wrists, kissing with heated intent. When he breaks away for a moment, Rodney looks over his face, noting a tremor somewhere about the mouth.

“You're not drunk. Let me guess. Almost dying again beginning to get to you?” Rodney asks.

“Maybe,” Sheppard says roughly, his fingers tightening around Rodney's wrists.

“And maybe tomorrow you'll pretend this never happened?”

“Probably,” Sheppard says, hard, heavy and alive.

Rodney nods, a little breathless. “Your call.”

Sheppard kisses him hard, stealing his breath and for a moment, it's like almost dying again.

## 

*

Sheppard is so good at pretending that most of the time Rodney wonders if he imagined that whole night. After all, when he awoke the next morning, there were no signs that it was anything but a dream.

If it weren't for that fleeting look of guilt, too short for anyone else to notice, Rodney wouldn't believe it happened at all. But Sheppard lets it slip sometimes, when he's forgotten to keep his face on, something like regret.

At this rate, hating Sheppard will become as easy as everything else Rodney feels for him.

## 

*

When Sheppard comes to Rodney, it's like he's angry and resentful. Like he has no choice. Like he can't do this without making it hard on himself.

Many times, it's been like a fight to see who gets to be in control and when Sheppard does let Rodney lead, it's like he's lost something to let that happen.

Being with someone shouldn't be this hard, Rodney thinks, but the truth is that even when they're touching, they manage to be miles apart.

## 

*

Lying over him, moving slow, too slow for Sheppard's liking if the frustrated sound he makes is an indication, Rodney gives up the fight. He can't fix this, whatever _this_ is. All he knows is that he doesn't want it to stop.

Nothing's been resolved. It's just come crashing down around them, turning into an uncoordinated mess of want. Fingers tightening in Sheppard's hair, teeth raking across his jawline, Rodney puts every ounce of anger and need into his kisses. This isn't even sex anymore. It's just arguing in another language.

When they finish and John turns his head away, eyes closed and his flushed face unreadable, Rodney almost expects him to apologize.

Rodney watches for a moment, waiting for Sheppard to look at him. Giving up, Rodney lets himself fall on top of Sheppard, kissing his shoulder. If Sheppard doesn't want to be here, he can be the one to walk away.

## 

*

The tide turns in some moldy smelling cave where they find an Ancient device built into the wall. It could hold amazing secrets or be the Ancients version of a telephone booth. Whatever it is, Rodney is intent on not leaving unless they can remove it from the wall or at least figure out what it does.

He spends the better part of a day, shouting at his assistants who act more boneheaded than usual just because the cave is cold and dank, whereas the Marines posted to keep an eye out look bored and trigger-happy.

People filter out when the evening comes because according to Sheppard not everyone can spend twenty-four hours holed up in a cave. As night falls, Rodney can hear sounds of the camp that's been set up outside, something making everyone laugh, while he stares at the exposed panel in the wall, doing nothing more than blinking.

Not long after, Sheppard arrives, arranges a circle of rocks and throws a stack of branches in the middle, building a warm fire. He doesn't look at Rodney or say anything, just going about his business, so Rodney turns back to his work.

Sheppard spends the night by the fire or making small trips outside. Sometimes when Rodney looks back, he's poking a branch at the fire or he's rifling through his rucksack, making some kind of noise.

It's when the noise stops that Rodney looks back to see Sheppard staring at him. Oddly, he doesn't look away, like he usually does. He just stares.

“What?” Rodney asks.

“Just thinking,” Sheppard says.

“Isn't that against regulations?” Rodney asks, getting a laugh out of Sheppard. Rodney abandons his work and moves closer to the fire, sitting next to Sheppard. “Um...so, what are you thinking about?”

Sheppard shrugs. “I dunno. This. Us. Whatever the hell it is we're doing.”

Rodney looks to the cave entrance and back at Sheppard, who is now finding the fire fascinating. “I thought it was just sex.”

Sheppard's nodding. “Yeah. That's what I thought.”

Rodney doesn't take his eyes off of Sheppard, even though he feels like jumping up and urging Sheppard to the finish line. “But?”

Sheppard looks up at Rodney, his expression quizzical, eyes charting Rodney's face. Then he laughs and looks away, shaking his head. “You're not even my type.”

Rodney snorts and rolls his eyes. “What? Busty? Ascended?”

Sheppard has a smile on his face and it warms Rodney because he hasn't made Sheppard smile in a long time, not like he used to.

“Seriously,” Rodney says, trying not to urge. “What are you saying here?”

Sheppard is blinking at the fire, mouth opening silently. Rodney wants to reach over and help somehow, but Sheppard is all walls even when he's open.

“Another galaxy,” Sheppard says slowly. “New planets, aliens and the lost city of Atlantis. You'd think it would put things in perspective.”

Rodney takes Sheppard's arm to make the other man look at him. “It is totally okay to want this. You're smart enough to figure that out. Figure it out already.”

Sheppard watches Rodney for a while before he nods mutely and looks away, Rodney letting go of his arm. They sit quietly by the fire and though the silence seems to stretch forever, he's sure that Sheppard is closer than he's ever been.

## 

*

Rodney wakes with a groan, already disgruntled with the universe. The days are getting colder, the ZPM emptier and in four hours he and his team will be off on another mission, trying hard not to get killed. He could really do with a lie in and to be able to feel his arm, which for some reason seems to be completely numb.

Grimacing, Rodney pulls at his arm, opening his eyes when he realizes that it's under a warm weight. Rodney sees Sheppard lying there on his stomach, face turned away. He's partly lying on Rodney's side, dressed in his workout clothes, giving off waves of warmth, even though he's lying on top of the covers.

Rodney sits up and just stares. Sheppard doesn't stay the night. He's not there in the mornings. Discretion is still defined as paranoia. Yet, there he is, sleeping.

Rodney leans over Sheppard, relishing the feel of the other man's body against his. “Hey.”

Sheppard stirs, face scrunching up in objection. “Five more minutes.”

“What are you doing here?” Rodney asks quietly.

Sheppard blinks and squints up at him. “You want me to go?”

Rodney shakes his head and resists saying something stupid. “Of course not. You're just more careful. You know, about this.”

Sheppard nods slowly. “Well, I was about to take a run and I remembered what you were saying about the jumpers the other day and I figured since you never sleep I'd grab you to talk about things over breakfast before we have our briefing and gear up for the mission.”

Rodney nods. “What thing about the jumpers?”

Sheppard narrows his eyes, obviously trying to make something up. “I'll leave that detail up to you.”

Rodney smiles, coaxing one out of Sheppard. “Why didn't you wake me?”

Sheppard shrugs. “You looked tired.”

“So, you just got into bed and went to sleep,” Rodney says, hoping Sheppard won't suddenly freak out and run away.

“Yes, I did,” Sheppard says slowly. “Seemed like the thing to do.”

Rodney nods, hoping his smile won't crack his face in half, which seems like a real possibility. Sheppard senses this, which is why he's rolling his eyes.

He gently pushes Rodney back, getting up from the bed. “I think I'll go for that run.”

Watching Sheppard walk away, Rodney knows it should bother him that the other man still keeps the minutest of spaces between them, but it doesn't. He and Sheppard are just millions of atoms never really touching, holding on to each other, rather than flying apart. They're just human.

“John,” Rodney calls out.

Sheppard turns from the door. “Yeah.”

“Breakfast?”

Sheppard smiles. “Sure. Save you a seat.”

The door slides shut and Sheppard is gone, the bed still warm where he lay. Rodney rolls over, burying his face in Sheppard's pillow, knowing that things aren't perfect, but they are okay.

**\- the end -**


End file.
